A Table for Three
by her madness
Summary: [A FireRed Novelization] There were three who left Pallet Town that fateful day. ―GreenLeaf, Red
1. New Game

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Pokémon franchise. If I did, I would fire whoever designed the key ring of disgrace.

Rating: T for language and violence

Dedication: To my precious Squirtle, who is constantly overlooked by the charmander evolutionary line.

"I think it is unnatural to think that there such a thing as a blue-sky, white-clouded happy childhood for anybody. Childhood is a very, very tricky business of surviving it. Because if one thing goes wrong or anything goes wrong, and usually something goes wrong, then you are compromised as a human being. You're going to trip over that for a good part of your life." —Maurice Sendak

Even as an innocent, doe-eyed child, I knew my mom was an utter waste of space. But once, and only once, when Professor Oak's grandson harassed me because of my name, she came through for me. When I stormed in, demanding why she would _ever_, even _possibly _ever, consider naming a child Leaf, she sprung to life. Two coats and four gloves later, she shoved a furious mini-me into the biting cold, intent on demonstrating her reasoning for such a nonsensical name.

Well, to make a long story short, our little escapade was to the Oaks' gargantuan oak tree. (And yes, they would showcase a tree baring their prestigious surname in their front lawn. That's how high class society people like them roll). The tree was a hulking skeleton. I vaguely remembered chasing Green Oak under its leafy foliage just a few months before. But at that moment, I just knew how solemn and barren that tree was without its viridian cover. And then I realized, without my mother even saying it, the reason for my namesake. For in a few months' time, this naked tree would be fully-clothed, beautiful again. All because of the leaves.

My mother expected, and still expects, I imagine, me to bring beauty to barren things. But even my eight-year-old self, standing in the presence of such a powerful metaphor, knew it wasn't possible. For how can something barren cover up something barren? That's the problem: it can't.

Chapter One: New Game

Leaf Wynn has a motto, a mantra really: each day yields to a new disaster. But today, if she plays her cards right, could work in her favor. Yesterday, while her mother was in the back room, Professor Oak paid a surprise visit to their humble abode. Playing the perfect hostess, Leaf offered him a seat and immediately began brewing tea. (He preferred his sugarless, a sentiment she shared). They bounced around pleasantries like "How's your mother" and Leaf replying, "Well, she remembered to eat today", before Oak arrived at his point. Tomorrow, today now, she was to drop by his lab. And if Leaf's assumptions are correct, and she imagines they are, she would be leaving Pallet Town for a long, long time.

Opening up a drawer, Leaf fishes around until she finds it. She blows the dust off the potion, marveling at how she's kept it after all these years, just in case. Once upon a time, Green and she were the best of friends. The potion was a gift from him, a stolen treasure from his grandfather's lab, a "hey, he won't miss it anyway". She stuffs the medicine in her messenger, along with a change of clothes. If today went right, she would be leaving on a journey. It's crucial to be prepared.

"Mother."

Leaf steps in front of the television, as it's the only way to steal her mother's attention, "I just wanted to let you know that I may be leaving town, and I'd like your consent to do so."

This is the last real obstacle, if Leaf can convince her mother to see the light, she'd be home free. Half of Leaf has decided to leave regardless of her mother's consent, but for the sake of formality…

"…Right. All girls dream of traveling. It said so on TV. You can go."

Leaf sputters incoherently in front of the raven-haired woman. Leaf had wanted, crossed her fingers for a yes, but not like this. Never like this. She was supposed to beg, convince her mother that yes, she was old enough. Yes, mother, she'll be safe. Yes, mother, she's responsible enough. Mothers are supposed to actually care about the wellbeing of their children… not, not this.

Leaf spins around to the TV, only to see a pig-haired redhead and her lillipup skip down a yellow brick road.

"Please, _please_, don't tell me you gathered that philosophy from the fucking Wizard of Oz, considering the whole point of the movie is for the girl to return home," her voice slides into a falsetto, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."

Leaf's mother blinks, life flooding into her eyes, "You mean, you aren't satisfied that I'm letting you go? Is that not what you wanted?"

Leaf hoists her yellow messenger bag higher up on her shoulder and replies, "No, don't think for a second that I don't want to leave. Because I do. But most mothers would hesitate before letting their child go venturing into the great unknown."

Her mother waves her off, "I've heard of kids leaving home at age ten, you're sixteen."

Leaf heads towards the door, twists the knob, and pauses at the threshold only to say, "And you're just a selfish bitch who wants one less mouth to feed."

Then she slams the door behind her.

Leaf can count on one hand how many times she's been to the lab, and frankly, she's moderately uncomfortable. There are an infinite amount books and numerous blinking machines that make her head spin. But Leaf's not uncomfortable enough not to confront Green Oak, who is not the Oak she had anticipated meeting. He yawns when she marches up to him, as if to say, "It's only Leaf." She doesn't have the time to play mind games with him. She has a professor to track down.

"Sorry, Leaf," he drawls, not looking sorry at all, "Gramps isn't here right now."

"Obviously. Tell me where he is."

The bastard tilts his head, a smirk creeping up on his face, "You just missed him. He's out doing field work on Route One."

Leaf takes a step back, then another. If the professor is out doing field work, he has clearly forgotten about their meeting today. Meaning their meeting wasn't as important as she suspected it was. _Meaning_, she wasn't getting a pokémon after all. Leaf could cry, or scream, either one, but she can't show her disappointment in front of Green, so she makes a break for it.

"Ah, Leafy," Green calls out to her retreating back, "if you really need to talk to him so badly, why don't you just go find him?"

Leaf doesn't reply as she weaves pass unidentifiable machines and book shelves, but her mind is made up. She'd just have to interrupt the Professor's field work, because she can't wait any longer to leave this town.

When he hears the door slam, Green's smirk widens into a meowth-esque grin. He continues to grin, even as an aide approaches him.

"Green, I thought the Professor was just running home to grab a file."

"Oh, he is. I just couldn't pass up an opportunity for the Golden Leaf to get chewed out by my gramps."

Leaf knows that wild pokémon lie outside of Pallet Town's gates. She's not suicidal, so she's never stepped a foot onto Route One. But right now, at this moment, she's throwing all caution to the wind, because she's hell-bent on knocking some sense into the forgetful Professor. Today, if only today, the wild pokémon will leave her alone if they have any sense. She's fixing to take her first step into the tall grass when a frantic shouting stops her in her tracks.

"Hey! Wait! Don't take another step!"

And lo and behold, Professor Oak is running towards her _from the direction of town_, lab coat flapping in the breeze. When he reaches her, he bends over wheezing, trying to catch his breath. And Leaf is reminded of his old age.

"Never," he rasps, "ever… step foot into that grass without a pokémon. It's unsafe!"

He straightens up and turns his sharp gaze on her. He appears angry, but Leaf can see fear lurking in the depths of his charcoal eyes. She traces a worn sneaker onto the dirt, focuses on it for a while, before she deems herself ready to look him in the eyes. They're smoldering coal, and Leaf's respect for the man just went up tenfold.

"Listen," she gulps, "I wasn't thinking rationally, Professor. I was upset when Green told him you skipped our meeting for fieldwork. I went to find you."

The Professor's eyebrows furrow, "But I wasn't even doing field work—"

"Obviously," Leaf chimes in, before wincing slightly for interrupting him.

Then it dawns on them that Leaf was set up. And Leaf, who never takes anyone on their word, especially Green Oak, fell for it. Leaf tips her hat downward, shielding her embarrassed gaze from the Professor. She actually let the idiot get the best of her. Finally, before the silence stretches for too long, the Professor turns and starts his trek back towards Pallet Town.

He makes it a few feet before he calls back to her, "Are you coming or not?"

A rare smile blisters onto Leaf's face before she jogs to catch up to him, "So, you forgive me?"

The Professor takes in the nature, the swaying flowers, mulling over his words, "To be quite frank, Leaf, as impulsive as your little stunt was, it hasn't changed my opinion of you."

When Leaf opens her mouth to interject, he chuckles good-naturedly, "In fact, I've been observing you for quite some time now. I need someone young to help me with an enormous favor. It was supposed to be my grandson, but time has proved to me that he'll never mature enough to face the real world. And of course, the _other _boy, I will not even consider."

Leaf replies, mostly to herself, "And that leaves me…"

The old man nods at her before lifting his gaze to the shadows, the outlines of Pallet civilization. Leaf squints at the sun's position, figuring it must be noon by now. The Green stunt had wasted some valuable minutes of her precious time. She's pissed of course, but has to show some decent control in front this esteemed presence. He rambles on amiably, not even checking to see if she's still following. Professor Oak may be a genius, but he hasn't skipped out on the quirks of old age.

"And normally I would never consider a young lady to aid me in my work, but…"

Leaf flares her nose up at the blatant sexism, but doesn't retort because she's _this_ close to getting a pokémon, she can_ feel _it. And all is going relatively well until they arrive back at the lab, where a spiky-haired awaits for them.

"So, you have just gone and betrayed me for a sap like her, huh, Gramps. Abandoned your own flesh and blood. How heartless, how—"

Professor Oak holds one hand out, and he's the imposing figure at Route One once again. Even Green withers under his gaze…

"Well, congratulations, Green. After today's stunt, I've just reevaluated your situation. Before, I wouldn't give you a pokémon because of your immaturity. Today, I'm giving you a pokémon for the same reason, to serve as a lesson. I pray tell that with it, you can finally mature, because Mew knows I don't know what else to do with you."

Green is on the verge of a cocky self-celebration, but a glare from his grandfather stops him in his tracks.

"Leaf," the Professor turns to address her, "On the table to my right are three pokéballs. I used to be quite the trainer in my days, but these are the only three I've kept. Go ahead and choose one."

Somehow, someway, Leaf manages to get one foot in front of another, until she stand with three options bared before her.

"But Gramps! What about me?" Green whines and fidgets.

"Quiet, Green. You can pick after Green," and Leaf is still not used to the venom tracing the elderly man's voice.

Leaf bites her lip, unsure of what to pick… what are in these pokéballs anyway? The Professor seems to pick up on her indecision though and launches into an explanation of what each one contains. On the far right is a fire-breather that would grow quite powerful with time and patience (which was an instant no). Patience is over-rated anyway. In the middle is a water type, which the professor only remarked was worth raising. And on the left is a grass pokémon, a species notorious for being easy to raise. Green, predictably, is all over easy street, and snatches the bulbasaur before Leaf can even make a final decision.

"I swear to Mew, Green, you can't even be a gentleman long enough for me to pick a pokémon."

Let's be honest, if Leaf wasn't in the presence of lab coats, clipboards, and over all professionalism, she would knock the shit out of the bastard.

"Leaf, if you want the bulbasaur, I'm _sure _Green would be delighted to give it over to you."

Green looks over at the Professor like he has two heads, "Why the hell would I do that?"

Actually, Leaf may not have to kick sorry boy's ass after all. The professor looks like he just may take care of business himself. Luckily, or unluckily, he won't have to, it wasn't the bulbasaur she wanted in the end.

"It's cool, Professor, uh, sir. I think I would have chosen the squirtle in the first place."

Relief washes over his features, "Great. Now, that that's been settled, I need for you to head to Viridian City and pick up a package for me. That's all I need of you right now."

And as an afterthought he added, "Oh and Green, you're dismissed. Leaf, please enjoy your journey."

"Hey, gramps, what about me?"

"Leaf," the Professor grins, "Please enjoy your journey."

Leaf doesn't need to be told a third time before she's heading for the door, giddy like a kid on Christmas morning, not that she's ever really experienced Christmas, per say. She even makes it out the door before Green charges after her.

"You. Me. Pokémon battle. Now."

Oh, he shouldn't have. A feral grin creeps up on the corner of Leaf's lips. She couldn't imagine, conjure up a better way to release her pent-up emotions. Elation. Irritation. Both.

"You're on, Oak. Let's get it on. I have things to do."

He clicks the button on his pokéball, before tossing it up in the air. Leaf copies him, excited, but realizing that she has no earthly idea what she's gotten herself into and Green surely does because his grandfather is an expert on all things Pokémon _for Arceus's sake_.

Two twin beams materialize into two opposite pokémon. The bulbasaur is quadrepal, bespeckled, with a (surprise, surprise) hulking bulb on its back. Her squirtle stands proudly on two legs, with a sturdy shell and an adorable, curly tail.

Wanting to take the initiative, Leaf points out her opponent, prodding her squirtle to "sic him". Squirtle (Leaf decides that's what she'll call him, she's never been good with the whole nickname thing anyway) tackles Green's bulbasaur, who thrashes under Squirtle's hold.

"Bulbasaur," Green commands, "use your worse growl!"

He, it, whatever, does. And poor Squirtle is knocked back by the sudden ferocity. The green twerp squats in triumph, his (it just oozes testosterone, okay, just like Squirtle) crimson eyes daring Squirtle to come closer. And when he finally does, after a little coaxing (more like expletives) from Leaf, his tackle isn't nearly as effective. Leaf realizes morbidly that Squirtle's shaken up by the bulbasaur's growl.

"Don't let that bastard scare you! Go all out Squirtle!" she bellows.

Green encourages his bulbasaur to take the offensive, and the two begin rolling around, trying to gain some kind of leverage. As much as Leaf's read about pokémon, one can't articulate the brutal, beautiful instinct displayed for her sheltered eyes. Lesson of the day, she surmises, never put your faith in paperback literature. But as the two pokémon clawed at each other, Leaf felt a nagging question claw itself up from the depths of her mind and take root. Her pokémon is responding to battle on his own accord, but isn't it the trainer's job to guide one's pokémon in battle? Green certainly felt like his bulbasaur could hold its own, as he crossed his arms in a casual hold. Call it intuition or natural instinct as a trainer that ran through her veins, but she knew that if she could convey to her squirtle some kind of strategy, they'd gain the upper hand.

What kind of strategy though? She wasn't sure what her squirtle was capable of. Could he summon water? How fast were his reflexes? Could he retract into his shell?

Wait… could he retract himself into his shell? That would protect his fleshy material from the bulbasaur's barrage of attacks. But how could he attack from inside his shell? There was only one way and Leaf would bet her pokédollars on it.

"Squirtle, withdraw yourself and spin!"

A shit-eating smile broke out on the girl's face when Squirtle obeyed, knocking Green's bulbasaur off-kilter in a whirling blur. If it wasn't totally out of character, Leaf would squeal or jump or something. She's never felt such addicting adrenaline. Pokémon battling, she decided, would have to become a must on her journey.

"Now, Squirtle! Knock him out before he gains his bearings!"

"What? No— Bulbasaur! Stop it! Dodge!"

_Sorry, Green, _Leaf thought, _but it's far too late_. Squirtle springs out of its shell, ramming the unsuspecting bulbasaur into the ground. Leaf and Green hold their breath, waiting to see if the bulbasaur could pick himself back up. He couldn't.

A red light sucks the stagnant pokémon back into his pokéball. Green stares at it in disdain, rubbing the red and white ball in between his fingertips. Leaf snorts, it was as if she stumbled upon an intimate moment. Green's never put so much emotion up on display. Everything about him is a faҫade. She approaches him, and isn't until she gets close that she can make out his incoherent mumblings.

"Dammit… unbelievable… I must have picked the wrong pokémon. Bulbasaur clearly has its weak points… in his defense especially…"

"Or," Leaf genially interrupts, "it just may be your incompetency in general."

Okay. Not so genially.

Green steps back, recoiling slightly, as if he just notices her presence.

"What are you still standing here for? Whatever. I'm outta here. Smell ya later."

He spins, clear on making a grand escape. Leaf won't let him.

"Wait."

He stops, looks over his shoulder, feigns nonchalance.

"What are you planning on doing now, Green?"

He snaps his head back around and continues walking. Leaf doubts he'll answer. But his does, never ceasing his 'amiable' getaway.

"Isn't it obvious?" Green sneers, "I'm going to make my pokémon stronger. Then, I'll have you crying uncle at my feet."

She doesn't know how to reply to that, nor does she intend to. Just when she can make Green's silhouette on the horizon, Leaf marches off in the opposite direction. She has one more stop to make before she hits the road for good.

Leaf isn't a morally upright person by any stretch of the imagination, but somewhere, somewhere, deep inside her shriveled up heart, her conscience grabs her and pulls. Guilt. Pity. That's what drives her up a dirt path, directing her farther and farther away form Route One. The shadows are reaching across the landscape for each other; it's late afternoon by now.

There's a third kid in Pallet Town. They're actually quite the trio: the cynic, the asshole, and the oddball. And the word 'oddball' was a vast understatement. He's been that way from birth. Odd, reclusive, fascinated by things Leaf couldn't and can't understand. Green and Leaf are insufferable by circumstances, by the way they were raised. But his family was by all means… perfect. His parents are loving, bubbly even. He lives in a manor on a hill, a sight for any tourist's wandering eyes. But that doesn't change that Red is who he is.

And Leaf is technically… for all intents and purposes, his friend. It hasn't always been this way; she never acknowledged his presence until she realized that Green loathes Red and that she loathes Green. It was low of her, callous of her, but not beneath her to befriend Red to piss Green off. And it worked all to well. Green would sputter how he couldn't believe she ditched him for the sociopath. (Where he learned to use the word sociopath at age nine, don't ask, she doesn't know. He probably perused his grandfather's stash of dictionaries to enhance his vocabulary and to paint himself as an even bigger jackass know-it-all.)

When Leaf approaches the manor house, she makes a split decision to venture to the back of the house instead. Red's parents could _talk_, and she doesn't have the time to pretend she's interested in Red's first steps or his first solid food. As she walks, she spots the perfect throwing stone (the smooth, light kind that won't shatter windows she can't pay to fix) and begins to toss it up and down in her hand.

—_smack_—

The stone ricochets off the second story window and lands at her feet. She waits a few seconds and when she doesn't receive an answer, pitches it again.

—_smack_—

Leaf's skeptical to believe that he's actually, you know, out on the town and wonders why he won't come to the window, when, suddenly, the window flies open and a pair of red eyes blink at her.

"Hey," Leaf calls out around her hands, "we need to talk. Now."

Red blinks, closes the window, and walks away.

They're situated underneath the cherry tree in Red's backyard. Leaf is mulling over her words, trying to find the best way to break it to him. Red's gaze is off in the distance, where a flock of pidgeys meager. A small smiles graces his pale features. He brushes a lock of shaggy black hair out of his eyes absentmindedly, and Leaf painfully realizes that he's handsome. A handsome enigma. She's going to miss him just a little bit. They have an understanding she'll never possess with anyone else. Who else would just sit with her like this, reveling in the comfortable silence? She hates that she has to break it.

"So, Red. Sometimes it's easier to show things than to try to put them into words, so I'll show you."

She fishes out her squirtle's pokéball out of her yellow messenger. Red's eyes widen in understanding. He knows exactly what it is. Pokémon are his passion. His shelves are chocked full of Pokémon books, every single one read at least once or twice. And she's sure he knows that the pokémon that flashes in front of him is a squirtle, so Leaf doesn't waste her breath explaining.

"His name is Squirtle. Um, Professor Oak gave him to me. Red, I'm going on an adventure."

Red stares at her in disbelief, so she elaborates, "I'm leaving town. Forever."

He just keeps staring. Leaf never expected him to reply per say, but this is a little unnerving. Suddenly, he reaches out and strokes Squrtle's shell, his brow furrowed in deep thought. Leaf continues her one-sided conversation.

"I think Green is leaving too, so that should be a relief for you, ya know?" No reply. Duh. "So, uh, I just came by to let you know, out of respect for our friendship…"

She almost said she was sorry, but she isn't, has never been sorry for anything. Leaf stands up, brushing the dirt off her pleated skirt, and returns Squirtle. Red's hand is still reaches out but now clenched in a fist, having nothing to stroke but the air.

"So I guess this is goodbye. It's been real."

Red stands and meets her viridian green eyes with his crimson ones. Following a sudden impulse, Leaf reaches out and hugs him. He stiffens, not returning her hug. She awkwardly pats him on the back.

"You know, you're probably the best friend I've ever had. Thank you for everything, really."

Leaf clamps her mouth shut. Did those words really just tumble out of her mouth? But they must be true, they have to be. She gives him one last squeeze before she turns her back on him and saunters away.

She only looks back once, and when she does, Red is long gone.

The glass shatters and shimmers all the way down. It's a new moon, the lab's lights are all off, and Red waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He swings his legs over the window frame, traces of glass slashing at his jeans, but at this point, he doesn't really care. He plops down in a crouch, stumbling only once.

There must be a pokémon for him somewhere in here.

He begins yanking open filing cabinets, only finding papers and vanilla folders. He takes a dizzying step backward, hands pressed against his temples. His mind is churning, calculating, where, where, where… Red spins, taking in the entire dark room. _Where_?

When suddenly, a gleaming sphere winks at him from a display table across the room. Red could chuckle, really. He always overthinks. That's why objects always appear to be hidden in plain sight.

He grabs the pokéball, genuinely smiling. He loves pokémon. Always has. He has always thought them to be superior to humans. They are noble. They are kind, the only beings truly capable of unconditional love. And best of all, pokémon don't tell lies like his parents. This creature would be his best friend.

He cringes, stumbling backwards once again. No, that wasn't right. Leaf is his best friend, the only person he could ever like. And she left him without a second glance. She left him with his parents who clown-like grins never reach their eyes, who lie and lie everything they kiss his forehead and tell him that they love him.

They don't love him. They don't even accept him. But Leaf does.

So that's why he packed his bag and waited until dark and then broke into the professor's lab. He respects the professor, but he would never allow Red to have his own pokémon. And if he did, his parents would never let him leave on an adventure. It's all their fault he has to steal and leave town, run away. He has no other choice.

He has to find Leaf, his best friend. This little pokémon would help him find her. And maybe, maybe, once he found her, they could travel together. He'd love that.

Sharp whispers break his reverie, voices at the door. Only then does Red hear the piercing wail of alarms. He had been too preoccupied before. He needs to make his getaway, fast. He climbs back out the window he came through and lands with grace he never possessed before. And with the confidence of a liepard, he sprints alongside the buildings of Pallet town, a darker shadow in the grand shadow called night.

A/N: Well it's the start of a new journey. I hope I didn't play Red off as too much of a creep, because I have big plans for him, and I DON'T want any of you to write him off yet. Of course, I have big plans for Leaf and Green too, you know. Oh, and before I forget, I don't capitalize ANY pokémon's names unless it is A. a proper noun or B. a legendary, such as Arceus or Mew. Please keep that in mind when reading!


	2. To Viridian City and Back

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon. I also don't own Time by Pink Floyd, which is quoted in this chapter. However, if you have the time, you should give it a listen. It's a pretty sweet song.

A/N: An anonymous reviewer pointed out that the last chapter had no line breaks, which severely pissed me off because I had them, pretty little gray lines. So this chapter, I'm trying something different. Also, a warning in advance, PCs don't exist this story because I don't understand how you can store pokémon in a computer. So if that offends you, though I'm not sure why it would, please turn around now. Thanks, and read on!

Chapter Two: To Viridian City and Back

The majority of the books Leaf's read were borrowed from Red's personal library, since she can't afford a dime-store novel and he can afford the dime-store. One time, she attempted to read a memoir about the reigning champion of the Unova region, Hilbert Black, who apparently had the time between battles to pen a book. She'd always been intrigued by Unova, a far off place with technology far more advanced than Kanto's own. Leaf sped through the first chapter, which skimmed the first years of his life, and dove straight into the day he received his first pokémon. Apparently afterwards, Hilbert and his two childhood friends left town together. But the book didn't take a true nosedive until he wrote about the three taking their first steps onto Route One, holding hands. The book was returned, practically unread, to Red the next day.

Needless to say, Leaf's first steps onto her Route One were anticlimactic. She has no "buddies" to hold hands with, thank goodness. But she at least expected to feel a little different crossing the Pallet border, just a little. Her gait is identical; her iron clad will is the same. Even her cynicism stands true. She's left Pallet Town in the dust, stomped on it for good measure, but she's _not _satisfied. It's as if the more she gets, the more she wants.

The sun is a brilliant shade of vermillion, casting its red hues across the expanse of sky. Even the clouds are tinted a light cerise, a pink. The shadows that had strained to reach each other finally had. The sky is ablaze, and the earth below her feet is dark by the shade of the ever numerous evergreen trees native to this region, striking a startling contrast. Even nature had granted her this, a view she's never witnessed before, a sunset that's never shined so vividly. What a way to end a milestone, and Leaf is _not _content.

Every time she blinks, in that split second of pitch black, she witnesses her first pokémon battle again. The adrenaline, the raw instinct, the glory of winning, whirling around and around and around again and again. She can almost hear Green's bulbasaur cry of anguish. Once or twice, she's caught herself turning around, fully expecting to see the bulbasaur and its trainer. The battle is haunting her and making her wish for more. Route One appears harmless, with its sloping hills and winding paths. There wasn't a trainer in sights. A disappointment squeezes her, causing her to gasp, and she has what must be an epiphany.

She wonders if it's possible to become addicted to pokémon battling after one measly battle. But if it's so, if that's the case, shouldn't Leaf act on it? A whole world is waiting for her, full of trainer and pokémon and places she's only dreamed of seeing.

And before she knows it, Leaf's running, wind her hair, her old sneakers creaking in protest. A giggle bursts forth before she can stop it, the sound evaporating into the silent air. The world is her cloyster, as the old saying goes.

She's charging up the first gentle incline, following the winding dirt path, even when it disappears into the tall, unkempt grass, when a sudden force knocks her to her hands and knees. The grass tickles her nose, itches at her bare legs. Her ashy-brown hair falls around her face like a curtain. Leaf rolls onto her back, trying to place her assailant— a pokémon perhaps. But it's only a snot-nosed kid, who couldn't be a day over ten. She can only suppose the boy is one of those kids her mother mentioned earlier, those who left town at frighteningly young ages.

The boy's ratty blue cargo shorts are particularly green with green stains. There's a smudge of mud on his left cheek, all down his orange shirt. Leaf has to bite down another mad giggle; the boy's been crawling around in the wild grass.

Schooling her features into mild irritation, Leaf breaks the staring fest, "I'm going to assume you're the one who knocked me down? An accident, I presume?"

Leaf starts to pull herself up, "Watch yourself next time, kid. The next person you trip may not be so forgiving—"

The youngster yanks her hand and forces her to sit back down.

"Hey! What's your prob—"

He cuts her off with a lip to his lips. Silence. Though it's the eyes more than the gesture itself that catches her attention. The kid is haunted, paranoid. Leaf watches his lips move and strains to make out his hushed sentences.

"Running only makes it worse," he murmurs, hanging his head forlornly, "But regardless, you should be happy I saved your life. Walking, even standing in a wild pokémon's territory sends them over the edge. They demand respect, so we must get down on their level."

Leaf blinks once. Twice. Thrice.

"So what do you want me to do about it? Crawl through the grass on my hands and knees?" she deadpans, eyeing his copious grass stains.

The boy nods vigorously. Leaf rolls her eyes and starts to get up again. This time, the he doesn't stop her.

"Look, thanks for the concern, I guess, but I'm protected. So I'll be on my way now, and we're going to pretend this encounter never happened," her voice slides up at the end, like she's talking to an infant, or an imbecile, which she practically was, "Okay?"

"But—"

Indignation flashes in Leaf's bright jade eyes, "I swear to Arceus, if you touch me again, if you attempt to follow me, you'll fucking wish you were never born."

The boy mumbles incoherently, then crawls back into the grass, the green parting and snapping into place as he displaces them. Leaf watches disinterestedly for a moment or two before turning away.

_And this, mother, _she thinks, _is why you don't send your ten-year-old off to explore the Great Perhaps. He'll lose his ever-loving mind._

The tall grass bends at her will as she sprints through it, racing the sun. Viridian City is at the forefront of her mind, as was avoiding traversing Route One at night, with no light to guide her way. A smirk pulls at the corner of Leaf's thin lips, as a memory, albeit foggy, flashes across her eyes.

She's laying on her stomach on her bed, her long legs swinging like pendulums as she flips the pages of a book on philosophy. Leaf's eyes scan the black print, looking for a nugget of wisdom she can pocket away and keep for further reference, and her finger lands on a neatly underlined phrase. She strips the meaning of the words until she sees just black on cream, and snaps the book shut around her finger, caressing the spine in thought.

"'And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking, racing around, to come up behind you again,'" Leaf quotes, meeting Red's anticipatory gaze, "Did you underline this?"

He glances down at the carpet he sits on, before meeting her gaze again and nodding.

"Well," Leaf remarks, "I like it."

Red's eyes sparkle like rubies, and Leaf concentrates on remembering what he did next, but a haze is creeping from the corners of the memory, and her present self is tripping, falling, once again.

"Kid, I thought I told you to fuck off—" and her mouth opens in a soundless scream.

A hot pain races up her leg, up her spine, to the tips of her fingertips. Suddenly, she can't get enough air to her lungs. They're heaving with effort. Leaf twists around, attempting to either survey her opponent or shake it off or something because _it's tearing at her leg_!

She kicks out with her bad leg. It's useless. With her torso twisted Leaf can identify her assailant as a rattata, with its sharp overbite sunk inches into her calf. Through the dream-like panic, Leaf remembers the boy with the haunted eyes, his warning.

_And he was right_, Leaf thinks mournfully, _He was right and now I'm going to die on my first day by a mundane, run-of-the-mill, rattata_.

Other images flicker in and out of focus. A childhood best friend with auburn hair and gold eyes. Another with ebony hair and red ones. A catatonic mother. An eldery man in a lab coat. A squirtle with apprehensive fuchsia eyes.

Leaf's eyes widen in realization as she reaches for her messenger bag. The rattata's gleaming eyes follow the movement and releases her leg, sending another wave of pain up her leg. The purple rodent pounces on her bag in a blur, knocking all the items out of it. Leaf scans the change of clothes, Green's potion, maybe a week's worth of food, before spotting the pokéball. She reaches out, trying to secure it while the rattata feasted on her limited rations.

A flash of red lights the twilight sky. Squirtle materializes, taking a battle stance as soon as he takes in the situation.

"Squirtle," Leaf rasps, "Please tackle it. Stop it before it destroys anything else."

Squirtle's fuchsia eyes flash in the dim lighting as he springs, catching the rattata off guard. It squirms under the larger pokémon's weight, the hard shell.

"Keep it up, Squirtle," Leaf winces at the rattata, who keeps lashing out at Squirtle with its elongated teeth, "Don't release it until it stops moving,"

Squirtle makes a sound of agreement. The rattata's movements grow frenzy under her command, before slowing to random bursts of energy. And then, it stops moving altogether. Squirtle backs off it slowly and carefully, just in case it's a false alarm. Leaf hobbles over to her squirtle's side. Reaching down, she presses two finger where she would guess the rodent's pulse was. It was there. Faint. She should have known better; pokémon, even of the frail, vulnerable sort, could not be easily killed. They are practically invincible in that regard.

Shifting a bit to survey the wreckage, a spasm of pain jolts her senses. Leaf curses under her breath. She's well prepared for this journey, but she never thought pack a first-aid kit. She doubts she's ever even possessed one. The laceration running half way up her calf could very well need stitches. Do Pokémon Centers even operate on beings other than pokémon? Surely, surely.

Her green eyes, almost glowing in the lighting, meet with Squirtle's. Now that they've escaped danger's claws and the adrenaline has turned down a notch, Leaf notices how reserved the water pokémon is. His posture guarded, his eyes raking across her face for something. _My soul_, Leaf thinks darkly, _My morals. Neither of which I posess_.

"Squirtle. I'm not sure I knew what I was signing up for when I left town with you. Really. I thought this would be easy-peasy," she almost laughs at herself, "and look where that landed me. I practically had my leg amputated by some stupid rattata. On my fist day."

Leaf plops ungracefully, scattering the dry, summer dirt into the air.

"I'm a fucking failure."

Squirtle doesn't make a move to agree or disagree. He continues to regard Leaf with those giant, purple like eyes.

"But, I can't go back. You understand that, right? I can't. You, little guy, are stuck with me. Might as well get used to it."

Squirtle narrows his eyes in indignation. Leaf waves him off.

"Bad phrasing. I know. Let me try again. Okay… listen. It's just you and me now. You're all I have. We need to learn to accept that."

Squirtle tilts his head, intently listening. Leaf wants to slap herself at the déjà vu. One-sided conversations with Red, take two.

"Okay. I have an idea," her tone perking up, "I'll let you out of your pokéball. You'll be a permanent fixture at my side. That way, you can spring at the sight of any danger. And maybe, just maybe, we can learn to trust each other along the way."

Squirtle continues to stare. Leaf sighs and thrusts her hand forward, offering a handshake, a confirmation of a good deal made. Squirtle takes a small step back and looks down at her own blue paw, as if it's a foreign object. After a moment's breath, he meets Leaf's eyes once again and extends an arm. They shake hands twice. Leaf feels the corner of her mouth slide upwards. She picks herself up, brushing the dirt off her skirt, trying and failing to ignore the throbbing pain.

"Great, Squirtle. That's great," she stifles a yawn and an urge to stretch her arms wide, "I dunno about you, but I would really like a room at the Viridian Pokémon Center tonight. So, let's clean up this mess and skedaddle before that rattata wakes up."

Squirtle chirps before bouncing over to pick up a morsel of food. And after they finish cleaning up, they start down Route One together. Leaf tries not to limp too much.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Absolutely _not_. No pokémon in the Pokémart!"

The nurse at the Pokécenter was able to stitch up her wound. The stitches were crude, and Leaf feigned not caring. The nurse, however kind, could not help in the way of pain medicine, and suggested Leaf try the Pokémart instead. This brings her to the present, the next morning.

Another aproned clerk shoves the one that spoke out of the way. "Wait," he gasps, "Is that a squirtle? Only the Professor himself would lend such a rarity. You wouldn't happen to be Leaf Wynn, would you?"

The clerk eyes her. Leaf's lips part in apprehension. Just how did he get her name?

"Who wants to know?" she snaps.

"We were told to expect you. The Professor's order came in."

Leaf faintly recalls Professor Oak requesting her to pick up a package, but he never gave her any details to go off of. It was as if he just expected her to waltz into the Pokémart and find it waiting for her. He probably did.

"Fine. I'll take it."

After all, Oak would probably haunt her ass if she refused. One of the clerks goes to the storage and returns with the parcel in hand. Leaf pockets the brown package in her messenger and turns to walk out, trying to even out her limp. She's half way back to Pallet Town before she realizes she forgot the pain medicine.

Before, the lab was immaculate, not a file out of place, not a smudge speckling the linoleum rile. One could eat off the floor. All was steady, calm, utterly professional. Now, the aides are rushing with a frantic sloppiness, knocking aside papers as they go. A window is shattered, and the broken glass shards were hastily swept up. There are several that wink up at her, even now.

Professor Oak pushes past the mob; his hair in disarray. His lab coat is wrinkled and hanging askew. He reaches a hand up to wipe the sweat off his brow and reaches out with the same one to shake Leaf's hand. She gawks at the outstretched hand. The Professor looks down at it, mumbles some apology at his mistake, and wipes it at his lab coat subconsciously.

Finally, he speaks, "My, my Leaf. Squirtle is already growing attached to you. That's quite the feat. Squirtle was always the most reserved of the three."

Leaf fixes her sharp gaze on him, "What's going on, Professor?"

The Professor turns on his heel and begins walking towards the back of the lab, gesturing her to follow him.

"All in good time, Leaf. Be patient."

When they reach the back room, Oak whirls suddenly towards Leaf, scrutinizing her, "What exactly are you doing here, Leaf? Not that you don't have perfect timing."

She resists the urge to face-palm, only because of the gravity of the situation. She attempts to level her voice with him when she speaks, "You asked me to pick up a package? Well, here it is."

Leaf hands off the package, the Professor eyeing it warily. He shakes it, before his eyes alight with realization."

"Right. I had forgotten. I could have sent an aide for this. I could have even gone myself, I suppose," he unveils a custom pokéball from the brown wrapping paper, "I set this up as a sort of test. And now that I know that I can trust you…" He hesitates on his words. "I suppose you should be involved. But first… a gift, of sorts."

A door opens and slams shut, causing the Professor to wince at the harsh sound. The aides even temporarily pause. They all know who it is before they hear his cocksure voice.

"Gramps!" Green calls out, "This better be good, calling me back like this. I should be halfway to Pewter City by now."

The Professor sharply exhales when Green saunters into the back room, "I'm glad you made it, Green. And without any unnecessary preamble, I want to tell you about my two-fold request. First, the Pokédex."

Professor Oak walks towards a wooden desk, where two red devices reside. Green glances over at Leaf, his gold eyes giving her an once-over before pausing at her calves.

"Where'd you find leg warmers, Leafy? Didn't think they sold them in July."

Leaf bends down and pinches the mint green material covering her calves. "The Viridian Clothing Outlet was having a winter blowout sale," she retorts drily.

"Silence," the Professor snaps, returning to hand them each a red device, "This is the Pokédex. It automatically records data on any pokémon you've seen or caught,"

He nods toward Leaf, "How about a demonstration on your squirtle."

Leaf fumbles with the contraption for a moment before she finds the power button.

"Now," the Professor coaxes, "point in the direction of your squirtle."

Leaf does so, and a light begins blinking blue. The screen whirls, processing data.

"So, Leaf, how's your squirtle doing? Still as puny as ever, I see?"

The Professor shoots Green a scathing glare. Green holds up his hands in defense and makes an offhand remark about "making small talk". The blue light suddenly flashes off, the screen morphing once again. And to her surprise, it begins speaking.

"Squirtle. The tiny turtle pokémon. When it retracts its long neck into its shell, it squirts out water with vigorous force."

"Gahahahahahaha! The tiny turtle pokémon!"

The other two ignore that comment.

"Also," the Professor begins, scooping up a dozen or so pokéballs from a nearby filing cabinet, "Take these. And a word of advice. You can only have six pokémon on you at any given time, by the Pokémon League's rules and regulations, trainer or not. A seventh pokémon will have to be released by mandate of law. So choose what you catch wisely."

Leaf nods absentmindedly as stuffs the pokéballs into her crowded messanger bag.

"And finally…" the Professor drawls tiredly, "I need your help in apprehending a criminal. One who make off with my charmander."

_That explains the state of the lab_, it dawns on Leaf, _all the frantic behavior. The Professor's sudden dementia. _

"Sounds like fun, Gramps. You can just leave it all to me. That little fuc—bugger will be begging for mercy."

"Say," Leaf ventures, "Who is this thief? I need details. I'll need to recognize him in case of an encounter."

Professor Oak runs a wrinkled hand down his face, "I was just getting to that, Leaf. I went to the police for help, of course. But actually, I think you two have a higher chance of success. I believe you two can lure him in. After all, he's a familiar face. He's Red Ross."

A/N: A filler chapter. I know, I know. But it was necessary. I had to give build on Leaf's character before I moved onto the action. And of course, I tried to be subtle about it. For example, why did Leaf buy leg warmers in the middle of July, besides to cover up a nasty scar? Just some food for thought. "


End file.
